For All the Creators Who Think They’re “Not Good Enough” – Let’s Talk

Hey there,

It’s Friday, and if you’ve got a few minutes, let’s talk about some things that have been on my mind lately. This week’s edition dives into that familiar feeling of “not good enough,” the pressures and noise around us, and a surprising place I’ve found some comfort.

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Pour yourself a coffee (or something stronger), and let’s take a little trip through self-doubt, the state of the world, and, of all things, an album that’s become my personal refuge.

The Self-Doubt Trap: Why We Feel “Not Good Enough”

Let’s talk about something real. Every creator, artist, photographer (whatever label you wear) faces it at some point—that sinking feeling of “not good enough.” This monster rears its head especially when you’re scrolling through perfectly curated social media feeds, where everyone’s a highlight reel. We scroll and we compare, judging our rough drafts, our throwaways, our “could be betters” against someone else’s “best.” In German, we say, “Die kochen auch nur mit Wasser.” They’re cooking with water, just like you and me. They’re just better at hiding the burnt bits.

“They’re cooking with water, just like you and me.
They’re just better at hiding the burnt bits.”

Recently, I had a peek at a wedding gallery from a high-profile photographer. And let’s be clear—I’m not naming names, and I’m not here to tear anyone down. But I’ll say this: I was floored, and not in the way you’d think. Based on what you’d see on their Instagram or website, you’d expect storytelling, artistry, and that tension that makes images unforgettable. But what I saw was… boring. Flat. No storytelling, no curation, no rhythm. It was the same shots over and over, lacking depth and originality. I’d be ashamed to deliver something like that to my clients.

“Art is subjective, and we each have our own way of seeing the world.”

But hey, that’s my standard, my taste, my opinion. Art is subjective, and we each have our own way of seeing the world. Some people are thrilled with that approach, and clearly, it works for them. I’m just telling you this because it’s real, and it’s something we don’t often see when scrolling through the feeds of “big-name” photographers.

In the spirit of transparency, I recently put myself on the spot by showing a full gallery of mine on my friend’s education platform, UBC+. It’s a two-hour video (link here if you’re interested, but note, it’s paid content), and I didn’t hide anything. Every image, every choice, right or wrong by someone else’s standard, is all there to see. I’m sharing this because this isn’t about tearing anyone down. I’m talking about this to remind you that your standard, your taste, your art is yours for a reason. Stop doubting yourself.

This constant comparison we all do? It’s got a name: social comparison theory. We’re wired to measure ourselves against others, an old survival instinct that, in today’s world, just leaves us feeling like crap. And here’s the truth bomb: the game is rigged. The best moments, the finest shots, the angles, the edits—they’re all curated to make the person on the other side of the screen look flawless. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there with your “outtakes,” wondering why you even try.

“Your worst shots will never look as good as someone else’s highlight reel,
because that’s all they’re showing you.”

Your worst shots will never look as good as someone else’s highlight reel, because that’s all they’re showing you. When you scroll through their feed and feel that pang of “not good enough,” remember: they have a thousand other shots that didn’t make the cut, that didn’t match the vibe, that maybe, just maybe, aren’t any better than your own “rejects.”

This isn’t just a pep talk to make you feel warm and fuzzy. It’s a challenge. It’s time to stop doubting yourself, to stop weighing yourself against someone else’s curated version of success. The true art of what you create—the raw, flawed, unique moments—is where the magic happens. So, own it. Embrace your style, your imperfect shots, and the inspirations that don’t fit the mold. Because that’s what makes you a damn good artist.

When the doubt creeps in, remember this: there’s only one you. Your perspective, your eye, your artistry—that’s something no one else can replicate, not even the photographers with bigger followings, higher price tags, or “big-shot” reputations. As long as you’re capturing what feels true to you, your work is enough.

Here’s to ignoring the noise and creating the real, imperfect, human art that only you can bring into this world.

When the World Feels Like It’s Falling Apart

But while self-doubt is something we can fight within ourselves, what about the noise outside—the kind that threatens to tear down everything we care about?

Some noise is too loud to ignore. Some days, it’s like the world is set on unraveling every bit of progress we’ve made. It’s not just about overcoming self-doubt anymore—it’s about a constant onslaught of things that make you wonder if humanity’s lost the plot entirely.

Look at what’s happening right now. The U.S. election results are rolling in, and it feels like we’re watching a slow-motion train wreck. Donald J. Trump is re-elected…

And here we are, watching democracy slip through our fingers…

And the most chilling part? It’s not a sudden collapse. It’s this subtle, creeping erosion of everything we thought we could count on. Rights, truth, justice—it’s like watching the foundation crack, piece by piece, while so many people shrug and look the other way, as if none of this really affects them. But it does, and it will.

Maybe, as individuals, most people are genuinely decent. But as a collective? There are days when it feels like we’re proving, over and over, that we’re on a self-destructive loop. We make choices that tear down what we’ve built, we ignore the warnings history’s left us, and we choose apathy over action because it’s easier, because it feels safer. But at what cost? What does it say about us when comfort and ignorance become more valuable than integrity, truth, and progress?

“It’s a choice—a choice we’re making as a society, day by day,
every time we look away.”

It’s brutal to think about, but here we are. And the terrifying part is that it’s a choice—a choice we’re making as a society, day by day, every time we look away. We don’t have to end up here, but somehow we keep arriving. It’s like we’re stuck in this cycle, proving time and time again that when push comes to shove, humanity as a whole would rather stick to what’s comfortable than confront what actually needs to change.

So, yeah, some days it feels like we don’t deserve better. And maybe, if we can’t break out of this cycle, we won’t.

Songs of a Lost World: A Place to Find Calm Amid Chaos

But then, there are glimmers of something else—those rare, haunting reminders that even in the darkest moments, we’re not alone in feeling this way. Enter The Cure, who, as if right on cue, released Songs of a Lost World just days before this election. It’s like Robert Smith and the band knew exactly what we needed: an album that holds up a mirror to the sadness, the frustration, the aching hope that somehow, in all this chaos, there’s still something worth fighting for.

With everything going on, it feels harder than ever
to find something that just feels… safe.

With everything going on—the election chaos, the wars, the constant stream of hate—it feels harder than ever to find something that just feels... safe. Lately, Songs of a Lost World, The Cure’s new album, has been that safe place for me, a little pocket of calm and comfort I keep coming back to. It’s not a flashy album; it doesn’t try to cheer you up or pretend things are fine. Instead, it’s this beautifully haunting space where you can just sit with the weight of things, feel understood, and know you’re not alone.

Robert Smith has always had a way of capturing this raw, unfiltered honesty in his music, but this album takes it even further. Tracks like “Alone” and “Endsong” dive right into the heaviness of what it means to be human right now. It’s not escapism; it’s like looking the sadness straight in the eye and somehow feeling more grounded for it. And then there’s “And Nothing Is Forever”, one of those songs you can just sink into. It’s romantic in a way that’s almost heartbreaking, whispering truths about time and love and loss, but without giving in to despair. There’s something deeply comforting in the way it acknowledges the temporary nature of everything, yet still holds onto the beauty of it all.

Recently, The Cure did this three-hour-long live stream to celebrate the album’s release. They played the full album, alongside their classics, and it’s up on YouTube now—a gift to anyone who needs it. Watching it feels like stepping into a world that doesn’t hurt for a while, like you’ve been invited into this safe, warm place where the noise fades, and for those three hours, it’s just you and the music. I mentioned this before on Instagram, but it bears repeating: if you need something to wrap around you, something to make it all feel bearable, go watch it. It’s more than just a concert—it’s a place to land.

There’s something powerful in the way The Cure doesn’t shy away from the dark stuff. This album doesn’t try to “fix” anything, and it doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, it invites us to sit with the mess of it all, to feel it, and to still find a way to hold on. For me, Songs of a Lost World is a reminder that even in a world that feels lost, there’s still space for reflection, for connection, and for finding a bit of peace in the things that resonate with our souls.

In times like these, maybe that’s what we need most—a reminder that we’re not as alone as we think. Because in those three hours, or even just in the space of a single song, The Cure gives us a safe place to be ourselves, to feel, to reflect, and to know that somewhere out there, someone else gets it.

In a world that often feels lost, Songs of a Lost World reminds me that connection, resilience, and honesty still matter—and that sometimes, it’s okay to find peace in simply being understood.

So, what’s keeping you grounded these days? Drop a line if you feel like sharing—I'd love to hear what helps you find a bit of calm in the chaos.

Take care,
Björn

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